The M&P 'verse: OneShots and Drabbles
by UchidaKarasu
Summary: A series of one-shots and drabbles written in the Martyrdom and Paradox 'verse.  Harry/L slash/yaoi.  Can be read as stand-alone or as a continuation.  Rated from K to M.
1. Markpoint

Yo.

This is number one. Number one goes first. If you didn't figure that out, you should give yourself a cookie for encouragement to do better in class next time. Just so you are aware, none of these one-shot things are in order. Yeah. Anyway. I less-than-three all of you!

Ja ne!  
>UK.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Markpoint<strong>

_UchidaKarasu_

Ten miles south of Washington D.C., a redheaded teenager pondered.

The choice he would select was of utmost importance, and could determine a win or a fail, a death or a victory. In his world, that meant everything, and he did not take his choice lightly. He could hear the murmur of electronics lulling him into his natural mindset, one of strategy and dexterity, and then he made his choice.

He pushed in the toggle of his Xbox control and totally raped the dude he just killed.

He got shot by a sniper two seconds after (what Mello called) prancing off into the metaphorical sunset, his helmet on fire and really easy to spot, but it was totally worth it. Raping the guy waiting for respawn was like bragging rights, complete with instant replay (via some fiddling in the game's basecode by Matt himself). Epic to the infinite power, like, seriously.

Meanwhile, Mello was shrieking like a hellcat on the phone. "What the fuck d'you _mean_ that the goddamn systems have been powered off-line? I've been fuckin watching those for _weeks_ you sonofabitch, and it can't just go _poof_ and disappear, you fucknut!"

_Slayer_ in Halo: Reach was badass, even though some of the new tech was bonko. Arf, play dead space-suited-dude! Mind, it didn't help that after the shocks were over, the asshole with the sword would totally shank you.

The jetpack though...that was awesome. And the clones were cool too, but only if he was using it and no one else. Then it was just annoying.

"_Woah man, that was fuckin awesome. Markus-fail!_" said one of Matt's Halo buddies, who just called himself Jack Daniels. Matt seriously doubted if the Idaho loser had ever even _tasted_ Jacky D before, because while Jack was really freakin' good at Halo, he was also a nerd that still lived in his mom's house. Matt knew, because he had traced his signature and had fed into the live link of his Xbox Kinnect (and who used those things besides kids, anyway? Loss of self-respect, man.

His mom called him _Teddy Bear_ instead of Theo or Theodore. If Matt didn't respect the guy's Halo skills, he probably would've teased him.

Speaking of Markus, who was probably catching his television screen on fire with the explosive nature of his rage, Matt could see the little bastard trying to snipe him out in retaliation for the rape, and because Matt knew it was over, he threw a grenade and committed suicide, killing two enemies that had been trying to get close with pistols. Hey, it was better suicide than getting gang-raped by a bunch of noobs or killed by Markus, the dickhead.

As he waited for respawn, he turned to his computer and typed in a long strand of code, still working on getting the system up and running for their particular use before Mello went nuclear.

Over the headset, Matt said around his cigarette, "Dude, where's the sword in this grid? I've been looking for it for thirty minutes and I need it to shank some losers."

Matt continued to shoot the shit with his on-line gaming buddies for a good thirty minutes before Mello finally lost it, smashing everything he came into contact with.

"'_oly fuck, fag, tell yer boyfriend to cannit b'fore mah ears bleed_," complained Texas, relatively new to the Halo clan that Matt had brought together. Best of the best, no joke, but Texas was a douche.

"_One minute!_" groaned Jack. "_Don't _leaaaaave_ us!_"

"Die you mutinous piece of shit!" bellowed Matt as he fired a grenade launcher in rapid succession at Markus, nearly drowning out Mello's shrieks of rage. His cigarette fell from his lips and tumbled to the hardwood floor, but Matt didn't register it except to make sure the rug close by didn't catch fire or something.

The computer beeped beside Matt, showing a familiar insignia, but Matt ignored it in favor of cheering madly at the resulting explosions and the announcer saying_ game over_.

"_Huzzah, Markus loses!_" laughed Maggie, who was probably better than all of the others combined (well, besides Texas). "_Now get lost, Matty, or Texas will start his dumbass bullshit again._"

"_Fuck you bitch_," Texas growled.

"_Play nice, kiddies_," said Jack.

"_Tell your mom she's a MILF, Texas; I bet she'd give you some so you don't die a pathetic virgin_," said Maggie.

"Peace out, guys," said Matt, signing out after a chorus of byes (and a rant from Texas that was increasing in slurs and vulgarity). He picked up his half-smoked cigarette, popped it back in between his lips, and then tossed the controller on the couch, standing up. "Give us a minute, boss dude," he said absently, and L probably picked up his voice from the laptop's speaker system and the headset that was still connected with Xbox Live but technically signed out.

"_Very well_," said L's voice, scrambled like usual, over the speakers of Matt's laptop.

Distantly, Matt heard a different voice (his voice scrambled due to feed issues but with a distinctive accent regardless) say, "_Where in the hell did you put my trousers?_"

"_You aren't allowed pants until you get me chocolate bars from Switzerland._"

"_Oooh, is this your way of saying that you wanna have hot, kinky monkey se—_"

"_Finish that thought and I will kick you in a place where such relations are impossible for a few hours at the very least_."

Matt snickered silently to himself, slightly surprised that L hadn't cut off the feed to their banter but mostly just amused at the banter itself. The detective's relationship was a highly private affair, so it was rare to hear a word of news on L's boyfriend, let alone talk, hear, or speak to him.

Matt thought L's _boyfriend_ was the coolest motherfucker on the face of the planet.

For obvious reasons.

"_So you're saying that you want me to just stroll my merry way to Switzerland without any trousers? I'm sure that's one way to get free chocolate, but since we're both wealthy and I have much more respect for myself than that, I'd really like to have me trousers back._"

"_You have self-respect? Just yesterday you did the chicken dance for free ice cream._"

"_I still had clothes on!_"

"_You were half-naked._"

"_In swimming trunks, around a bunch of kids!_"

"_And you didn't even get free ice cream. What is wrong with you?_"

"_Hey, the kids got free ice cream, and that's what matters, Kermit._"

"_Stop that or I'll light your pants on fire._"

"_There's _totally_ a joke for that_."

Mello stormed over to the computer and said in a forced calm voice, "Hey, L. Matt's trying to get through the system. They shut it completely down, and so we're trying to find a way through so we can get the info you need."

"_How long?_" asked L calmly, while his boyfriend made a strange (mostly because it was scrambled) keening noise in the background. He heard L give a long sigh, and Matt fought the urge to chuckle. He did _not_ want to know what _that_ noise indicated (although he was classified as a genius, and it was kinda obvious anyway).

"About twenty minutes," Matt said, edging his words more like a question than a comment. He wasn't exactly sure...it could take ten seconds or ten hours to bypass all the crap Winstrom International had piled up during down-time. Matt was super-awesome at hacking and the sort, but eh, he had his moments of dragging like a turtle.

Not the Mario ones, though. Those bastards went _fast_.

* * *

><p>Roughly 7,213 kilometres away from D.C., L pondered.<p>

Beneath him, a dark haired man squirmed as the detective's fingers teasingly touched his most intimate of places, but L kept his cool, not wanting to give too much away to the two teen-agers on the other side of the monitor. He should've cut out the audio feed, to give them privacy in this regard, but L just pressed a long, elegant finger against his lover's lips and said, "_Shhhh_."

Maybe he _did_ have a kink after all (besides the syrup and cherries being used as body ornaments, but that was beside the point), but he filtered that away for later as he finally gripped his lover's hardness with intent. It felt heavy and comforting in his familiar grip, and his mouth began to water, maybe with arousal himself or perhaps he was going to do _it_ again.

Yes, he definitely was. He was already dropping his trademark crouch in favour of Indian-style, because it was easier to replace his hand with his mouth without much discomfort.

He could remember a time when he had been totally grossed out by even _thinking_ of fellatio (sex in general, but now it was like he never wanted to _stop_), but now...yeah, especially with his lover's diet radically changed since being by L's sugar obsession. It was good—bitter, but an underlying sweetness that didn't make him cringe at the taste.

He still didn't like to swallow though. He wondered if he ever would.

It was even heavier on his tongue, with the musky-sweet taste overwhelming his senses, and he hollowed his cheeks to apply appropriate teasing suction. His lover's hand snapped up to his lips, muffling the constant moans that threatened to break the silence and alert the others. They were alone in their hotel room, sure, but the last thing they needed was Matt and Mello listening in on L's...lewdness.

_He_ had started it anyway, walking around with an erection and nothing on but a dark blue button-up, fully opened and displaying his lovely chest.

He was _not_ getting his trousers back.

He swirled his tongue around the head as if it was lollipop and then sat up, straddling his lover's hips and _slowly_ sinking down onto his hardness. As he was gradually filled to completion, with minimal pain due to him already being fairly stretched from their _activities_ before video-calling Matt (hey, he couldn't help that he preferred being naked around his...boyfriend, lover, whatever they were), he all-but went pliant. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the feeling of being so close to the man he loved, because every time they were together it was like a masterpiece.

Especially when edible body paint was involved.

Like cherry flavoured. Or strawberry. Or _chocolate_...

L set the pace, slow at first but gradually started moving faster as his passion spiralled out of control. He found himself covering his own mouth to keep from alerting the others, whereas his lover's hands began grasping L's hips, driving him down harder and faster.

L's approaching orgasm was building, and right before the heat in his abdomen and between his legs could explode into climax, he blindly flung out a hand and turned off the audio feed at last.

An instant later, he all-but shrieked, going unimaginably taut as he let go of himself (for the third time in an hour, but who was counting?).

When he finally collapsed upon his lover's sweaty, heaving-for-breath form, he could hear Matt say absently, "Hmm, almost in, weirdos. One...last...firewall...fuck Vista..."

L turned back on the audio and replied in a shaky voice, "Very well. Tell us when you're in and we'll give you what documents we're looking for in their mainframe."

From below him, the love of his life let out a breathless laugh and said, "Wanky. Just wanky. I think I want to explore _your_ mainframe and find your secret documents."

L rolled his eyes and replied, "You've already found all the secret documents, and furthermore, that doesn't even make sense."

"Aw, well, you still love me despite my idiosyncrasy, right?"

L looked down into brilliant green eyes and said, "I have no idea why, but yes, I do."

* * *

><p>In Washington D.C., Mello bellowed out, "Get a room, fucknuts!"<p>

Fron wherever in the hell L and his super-freaky-awesome boyfriend were, said boyfriend bellowed, "We already _are_ in a room, brat!"

Despite the scrambled audio, the unmistakable sound of someone being smacked upside the head echoed over the speakers.

Mello laughed and Matt joined in.

L's boyfriend was fucking _awesome_.


	2. Lines, My Lovely

Yo.

And yeah, just like in _Martyrdom and Paradox_, I took some liberties with _L: Change the World_ and _The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases_, in the sense that L supposedly saved the world from WWIII. Therefore, purists can shove it. 'Kay, thanks.

Ja ne!  
>UK.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Lines, My Lovely<strong>_  
>UchidaKarasu<em>

When Harry celebrated his forty-fifth birthday, L finally told him.

Before this, though, they were sitting at the graves of Harry's parents in Godric's Hollow, something they always did on Harry's birthday, and the wizard was crying. The tears, just as heavy and heart-wrenching as the first day they had come here, flowed down his ageing face, and L silently wiped them away with his fingertips. Despite the years, despite the fact that he was now the same age as Harry (for the next three months, anyway), his hands still looked as smooth and unblemished as always. He had aged well, Harry liked to say, but his hands were void of all the signs of time that showed elsewhere on L's body.

L watched Harry weep, and despite the fact that it was terrible to watch him in such a state, L never stopped thinking how uncommonly lucky he was that he had held onto this beautiful man for a little over twenty years.

When they were walking back towards the village to the inn they had rented, L mentioned almost off-handedly, "My mother's name was Klara Domashevich." There was a stillness surrounding them, almost suffocating when he thought and focussed on it, but then again, it could've been because L was finally letting go of something that he had held onto for the near five decades of his life. No matter how many years went by, no matter how happy he was with Harry by his side, it was always hard to open up a little more than he had previously.

Perhaps it wasn't as big of a deal as he was mentally making it out to be, but then again, severity of painful memory or ordeal was all in the eye of the beholder, or in L's case, the ear of the listener.

He continued slowly, lifting his face to the misty drizzle coming from the English sky as he walked, "She was a Russian woman who lived outside of St. Petersburg, in a city called Volkhov. She had been seventeen when she met my father, and from the intel I've gathered, a happy woman despite the war."

They continued walking in the light drizzle, the rainfall refreshing on their skin, and L tightened his grip on Harry's hand, taking in the comfort he himself had just given Harry at the foot of the graves. He hesitated, wondering how to proceed without making Harry cringe, but he figured that'd happen anyway, and in true L Lawliet style despite the years, he said bluntly, "My father, a man named Stephen Lawliet, raped her and she became pregnant."

There was a long pause. They bypassed the inn completely, L barely taking note of it, and continued down the road into the woods surrounding. The rain wasn't falling as thickly in the trees, due to the rain being caught on leaves and branches, but they could still feel thick droplets hit their jackets and heads occasionally. L still registered vaguely that he was still a bit hungry, maybe for some cookies or perhaps, dare he say it, that honey-dipped chicken Harry had brought to one of their many homes _(hideaways_) and forced L to try.

Some things _did_ change. L could look at himself in the mirror and _see_ the changes. The soft lines around his eyes and lips, the silver-white streaking very, _very_ thickly now throughout his heavy mass of dark hair, the look in his dark eyes that spoke simultaneously of good times and terrible ones instead of just the latter. But some things _didn't_ change, like his clothing or the simple fact that he didn't like shoes and socks.

"Stephen Lawliet raped and killed almost forty women in Russia over a period of fifteen years. He tortured them, dismembered them after he was finished with their bodies, and then dumped the bodies in churches and graveyards across St. Petersburg. It was his unparalleled talent for evading trouble and staying hidden, and his cleverness, that kept him from getting caught, but then he did. My mother was the one that got away from him instead of following the same sadistic pattern. She escaped him, saving herself."

Harry had changed quite a bit, and yet not at all. Sometimes L wondered if he was still in his early twenties, with that love of life and youthfulness simmering in every action he made and every word he spoke, but his appearance begged to differ. The grey (not white, like L's own but _grey_ which made him _old_, L liked to say to Harry's chagrin) was not as widespread as L's own, focussing around his ears in some sort-of distinguished way. His ridiculous circular glasses had been replaced with rectangular frames, framing those magnificent eyes with more justification to their beauty. The lines around Harry's eyes and lips were more defined (also to Harry's chagrin), showing years upon years of laughter and teasing. L liked them, even though it betrayed how their time together was coming to an end, but they would leave a good legacy behind regardless, and wasn't that worth it?

"She testified against my father, but because of his profession as a highly successful lawyer and his good standing in the government, as well as the simple fact he donated billions of dollars to relief efforts, no one believed that such a distinguished man could do such a terrible thing. There was no evidence anyway, because he was meticulous, and with the war, they weren't going to arrest and waste money on a trial. He was perfect at what he did, and the government needed his money. So she fled out of the country when it was clear he wasn't going to prison, fearing for her own safety."

They walked into a small clearing and Harry flicked out his wand, conjuring a plush armchair from nowhere after casting an overhead charm to cast the rainfall away from them. It never ceased to amaze L every single time he witnessed Harry, or anyone else for that matter, doing a simple spell or concocting a mundane potion. L had gotten quite good at potion-making over the years in an attempt to be a part of it all, since he didn't have to be a wizard to complete them. It was L's own way of being magical like the love of his life, except he was a lot better at making potions than Harry was. Harry blamed Severus Snape for that, but L refused to acknowledge it.

"She fled to Japan, where she thought she would be safe from both the war and my father. She had no money, no prospects, and like all hopeless runaways during that time, she sold herself for passage, stopped eating in exchange for whatever narcotics she could find. She periodically wrote letters and even made the occasional phone call to family back in Russia, but she never told them where she was. Perhaps she was embarrassed by her condition, or perhaps she was scared that my father would find her and finish the job he started. Either way, she was off the grid."

When they sat down, Harry first and L curled up on his lap with his nose buried in Harry's damp coat, L wondered why he was telling him. Did it even matter? It was most likely the fact that it was the last secret he had, and on such a day as Harry visiting his own parents' graves...was it not appropriate to divulge the last thing he had kept to himself over the years? His own parents—L's own father, the exact breed of man he had spent a lifetime trying to atone for. Maybe getting justice elsewhere with other murderers and rapists would make him less likely to be like _him_. A constant reminder, such as L's last name, only enforced that. They said psychotic and psychopathic traits were genetic and environmental; he had to keep himself on the opposite side of the spectrum even if it was a far-fetched worry.

"I was two months premature. I interviewed the doctor in Japan who was responsible for my delivery, once I discovered his name, when I was twenty-one. I didn't expect him to remember, but he did. He remembered me, even if he didn't remember _me_."

They had never married, Harry and L. They didn't need to. They didn't need a slip of paper to tell them that their love for each other was the lasting kind, the type that never ended even after death. After all, how could it end? Harry was famous, and his relationship for a man the public only knew as _Ryuzaki_ (the first name of many that Harry had been obligated to call him in public over the years) was famous in its own regard. It was widely accepted now that Harry wasn't going through a _phase_ with L, because it was relatively clear that they were going to spend the rest of their lives together, even to people who didn't know them.

It had taken the Wizarding public three years to finally catch a glimpse of what the famous Harry Potter was doing with his life, and L had been a part of that with gusto. It would've lasted longer, their secrecy in their relationship, if it hadn't been for a particular desire on L's part. He didn't want to be famous just because of who he loved, and he certainly didn't want the attention. The only reason he had finally showed his face to Harry's (and now L's) world was because he simply needed to. Harry could only do so much within the law without causing an international incident, and L needed confirmation for the children in the Race for the Letters to have intimate information on the Wizarding world.

Petitioning the Wizengamont to allow an orphanage full of Muggle children to learn extensively about their world without fault was rather important in L's eyes.

"He told me that she had come into the hospital in the late hours of the thirtieth of October, something I still can't believe he remembered after all those years despite the way he _did_ remember. He said that she had been thin, emaciated, and had that air of beauty before illness and drug use had stripped her of it. He hadn't even known she was pregnant until she had collapsed and they had found blood and...dilation during a routine examination. So they had moved her into a room and started preparing for delivery."

A bird, perhaps a raven, cawed in the distance, its call a lonely and echoing sound in the pitter-patter of rain surrounding. It sent shivers down L's spine, not exactly pleasant ones but not eerie ones either. It was just...intense, in a way, in the otherwise silent forest save the rain.

"He doesn't remember the time I was born and when the hospital I was born was burnt down in 1982, the certificates of birth were all lost. But he does remember that it was Halloween, because there had been festivals in Atami, the city I had been born in, and he remembers what year it had been because it had been the first series of festivals since the war had begun."

The bird cawed again and the shivers came back, so L burrowed closer into Harry's chest, inhaling his scent deeply. That was another thing that L would never tire of, Harry's scent. Musky, male, and simply _Harry_.

"My mother, despite living in Japan for the few months she was there, didn't speak any Japanese. I'm sure she knew some, just out of necessity, but I figure that she lived in a predominantly Russian area, probably in Tokyo itself. The doctor told me that she didn't speak any words, regardless of language, until _after_ I was born. They had told her that I was a boy and showed her to me, and he said that she said a phrase in Russian, calm and almost indifferent. He didn't remember what she said in our language—" There he went again, calling Russian _his_ language, but in a way it sort-of was, even if he didn't like to admit it. "—but one of the nurses had been proficient in Russian and had translated it to Japanese after...it happened. The doctor, well, definitely remembered that."

He had tried to teach Harry a few other languages after the Kira case had ended. After twenty years, Harry was proficient in English, Japanese, French, Italian, Spanish, Romanian, Portuguese, Catalan, Norwegian, German, and Mandarin Chinese (although that had taken Harry _forever_ to learn, but it was important in their line of work to know how to speak the language, since it was one of the global dominants). He could haltingly speak some Dutch, Swedish, and Afrikaans, at least enough to get by.

Harry was utterly terrible at Slavonic languages. Russian, Polish, Bulgarian, Macedonian...he was rubbish at them. He had picked up on a few words here and there, but it wasn't enough to have satisfactory conversation with delegates or governmental officials of the countries with such languages.

It drove Harry crazy not being able to pick up on the languages that L considered his best and most native. Despite being born in Japan and living there for almost five years, he had been relatively slow when learning due to being unmotivated during his younger years. He hadn't spoken to anyone (as far as he knew) while living in Japan, making all of them believe he was mute, and the first words he had spoken to another human being had been in Russian, which had been far more easy to learn than Japanese had been.

Perhaps that was just the Slavic blood in him. Maybe it was because the Russian language had always fascinated him, even when he had been younger. Perhaps it was because he hadn't been as scared and as determined to hide under the shadows of others in Russia as he had been in Japan. His childhood in Japan hadn't been terrible, not like the his childhood in Russia had been, so he wasn't sure why he considered himself to be Russian despite what country he had been born in.

Well, the years of impressionability were between four and nine, as determined by scientists, and he had predominantly lived in St. Petersburg during this time, so perhaps that was why.

L opened his eyes, blinked, and then shut them again, forcing himself to continue with his story rather than lose himself in memories. "He said that he could still remember what she said word-for-word." L paused, hesitating, but Harry squeezed him softly and he finally said in a shaky voice, "She said, 'Look at him, the demon child, looking just like the devil.'" Again, L paused, and then he whispered the Russian translation, "_Посмотрите на него, демон ребенок, глядя, как дьявол_."

The bird cawed again, but he was too lost in the memory of that doctor's tale to register the shiver down his spine.

"Maybe I really did look just like my father back then too," L continued. "I don't blame her for her reaction either; my father raped her, tortured her, and then frightened her enough for her to leave her family, her friends. Because of his actions toward her and women like her, she fled the country, got into drugs, and essentially ruined her life, just because she _valued_ her life enough to run. It just didn't turn out the way she had expected, and because of that, she was bleeding out after giving birth to me, the offspring of her worst nightmare, and she wasn't even done yet."

Harry was tense below him, and instead of not knowing what to do to comfort them both like back in the days of the beginning of their relationship, he wrapped the love of his life in his arms, burying his nose in the tender juncture where Harry's throat met his shoulders.

In the blunt way only L could pull off about personal facts of his life, the detective said, "She said that, so calmly and indifferently, and then she grabbed a scalpel from the medical tray proper and stabbed me behind the ear with it."

Harry didn't speak, but he didn't have to. He just shook in L's arms, holding him so hard back that it was almost painful but L didn't care. He loved being so close to Harry that he couldn't even breathe. It was comforting, in a way that making love to him was not. A closeness, but not entirely the same _kind_-of closeness.

"Then...then she went into labour again," L continued, and he could feel more than see Harry frown against his heavily streaked, black-and-white hair. "She was in labour with me for hours and hours, but she had my...sister in less than two after I was born, the doctor said. They had strapped my mother to her bed considering what had happened to me first, just for the sake of keeping the second child safe, but it didn't matter anyway. The girl was born stillborn."

Harry let out a sound that was a mix between a sigh and a groan at the same time the bird cawed again, and L pressed his ear against Harry's strong chest, listening to his heartbeat thump steadily. L's own heart slowly reached the same tempo, and for a long moment, they both just listened to the drizzle and each other's breathing before L was comfortable enough to continue.

"My mother died almost an hour after having my sister, from haemorrhaging. I barely survived surgery, and the doctor called it a miracle having survived it so young. I don't think it was a miracle, though, for I don't believe in miracles. It was just meant to be. I exist to stop criminals, to bring balance into this relatively dull but imaginative and brutal Muggle world. I exist to make sure that Kira doesn't come back through other means, even if Raito and Misa are both dead and gone. I exist to make sure that the world always has the L name to look forward to in this world, to make sure that it isn't as hopeless as it all seems. And...I was meant to love you, to make sure you didn't go crazy running away from all the women who _still_ want to have your offspring."

Harry tutted under his breath and pulled L's face away from his chest. Straddling Harry's waist, L stared deep into Harry's emerald green eyes, feeling that same overwhelming sense of love he always experienced when he was with the love of his life.

Harry wiped a few of the tears that had slipped out of L's eyes (_no, it's rain, because I don't know how to cry, even after all these years, but dear God that's a lie_), and whispered, "I love your lines, my lovely." He traced the gentle wrinkles around L's eyes that betrayed the detective's age and desire for immortality, and finally brought their lips together. For a long time, they just absorbed each other through soft, delicate kisses that spoke of more comfort and love than words ever could, and then they broke apart, gasping for the sweet air freshened by rain.

The raven's caw echoed in the air once more, a tragic sound that was lost completely on the two beloved in the middle of the clearing.


	3. Interruptions

Yo.

Hey guys. It's been a while, hmm? Gah, I got distracted from writing in anything but the _Naruto_ fandom for a small bit, but I _finally_ got some inspiration for the HPDN world. Maybe now I'll be able to churn out a chapter of_ The Brightest Evening of the Year_. I need inspiration guys, so don't hesitate to drop me a line (PM, e-mail, whatever) about what you'd like to see in that 'verse. I need a kickstart. Anyway, here's an update that has been finished for a while but I kept...forgetting to upload. It has a bit of the controversy over Is-Raito-A-Shinigami through Death Note Relight, so if you catch the hint then bravo!

Also, if you're into the _Naruto_ or _Glee_ fandoms, you should go check out my other FFdotNet account: _amarx17_. Furthermore, you should _totally_ add me on LJ if you have one, because I'm a LJ _junkie_ (and almost not in a good way) and I'm on there too much to be healthy. My username on LJ is _amarx17_ as well, if you're interested.

Hope you enjoy this!

Ja ne!  
>UK.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Interruptions<strong>_  
>UchidaKarasu<em>

Harry kissed down L's neck, and the detective shuddered under the attention.

Harry's lips trailed downwards, nipping at L's clavicle and eventually kissing every inch of skin of L's chest while L just tried to even out his breathing through the rage of arousal. His hands buried in Harry's hair, his pale fingers in stark contrast to the deep brown strands. He tried once to pull Harry's head upwards, a small whine sounding in the hotel room they were in, but the wizard wasn't having it, snickering lightly under his breath in-between kisses. He teasingly dipped his tongue in L's navel, making the detective shiver in response, and then he was pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to L's hipbones.

One finger suddenly trailed up L's hardness, and he bucked his hips from the stimulation, desperate for some pressure to alleviate the aching arousal. He could feel Harry's hot breath around him, and he murmured something that L couldn't understand over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears.

And then the devil decided to join in.

"As wanky as this is, I figure I probably should intervene."

By the end of the first syllable, Harry had already shot of two spells, both of which were useless against Ryuk and instead caused two craters in the wall to the washroom. The plumbing made a terrible groaning noise, and water began spraying out of twisted pipes. Harry was up in a blast, shooting the shinigami a venomous look as he quickly repaired the damage done by his magic before the entire hotel was alerted by the fact that the water didn't work. L himself tried to hide off a blush as he threw a sheet over his naked body, the mood completely gone.

"What in the _fuck_ is this about, you imbecile?" Harry bellowed when he was finished with his repairs. "Couldn't you be a bit more tactful and wait until _after_ we were finished? You really are a sneaky, snivelling, perverted _bastard_ and you're lucky I don't find some way to have to annihilated from the face of this _Earth_!"

Ryuk didn't seem very interested. "Right, whatever, you don't like me and you two are boring as hell. Give me an apple and I'll tell you a secret."

Harry exploded. Yelling obscenities and flinging out relatively harmless magic, he stomped around and caused havoc. The ceilings turned different colours, the chairs in the room transformed into suits of armour that began battling to the death, the walls changed into nets of ivy, and every bit of paperwork in the room began flying wildly as a strong wind upset the equilibrium. L grasped his sheet with sturdy fingers, making sure it wasn't going to fly away and leave him bare for the shinigami to see.

Again. This wasn't the first time Ryuk had interrupted during their more _intimate_ moments. In fact, Ryuk had never, not once, came into their lives unless they _were_ in compromised positions, so Harry's rage was perhaps warranted. L was more embarrassed than anything, but no one would've guessed it by looking at him. Three decades of learning how to control facial expressions was definitely in his favour.

Eventually Harry calmed down enough to leave the bedroom, grumbling angrily the entire time. He came back a few seconds later from the kitchen and threw three apples _hard_ at Ryuk's head, not that it made any difference. Ryuk caught them and scarfed down two, taking his time with the last and eating the core almost delicately. When he had smacked his lips in glee, he said, "A shinigami in the Realm has decided that life is boring there, always gambling and wasting time, and asked me about the story about Raito."

L blinked slowly. "What does this have to do with us?"

Ryuk snickered. "Well, normally I wouldn't even bring it up...but he had a spare Death Note."

"What?" Harry exclaimed, while L just pondered. That wasn't good, _at all_. They had to intervene before they had another Kira on their hands.

"Do you believe he'll drop it here on Earth?" asked L, staying calm unlike Harry.

"Eh, not sure," Ryuk said dismissively. "I did tell him that you two won, and that now my life is even _more_ boring now. He wasn't very pleased about that, for obvious reasons."

"Obvious reasons?" asked L.

Ryuk gave L a wide, diabolical grin and said, "Oh, you know..." Then, without waiting for Harry to shoot of a pissy remark, he continued, "Regardless, you should probably stay away from him. I can follow him around if you'd like, but if he dropped a Death Note, it would be..._fun_."

Ryuk was hiding something, but getting him to spill his secret was like getting Harry to admit that Severus Snape was Harry's favourite person or getting L to eat steak every day until he died. Or like both of them converting to Catholicism and praising God the Almighty while committing mass murder of children.

There were ways to bribe him though... "If we can get you as many apples as you could eat every day until the world ends, would you be willing to make sure this doesn't happen?" asked L, deadly serious.

Ryuk's eyes got so wide L wondered if they would pop out of the sockets. He supposed it didn't matter, since Ryuk was dead-ish, but it was a morbid thought to entertain regardless. "You _know_," Ryuk replied slyly, "I'd be totally okay with this. But how would you _do_ it? You will die eventually, and so will that bastard over there. Mind, his date is much longer than yours, but still."

That was an uncomfortable reminder of how Harry would live much longer than L would. They had talked about it for a while, after they had spent a year in some sort-of honeymoon phase after the Kira case had ended. Harry was a wizard, and by average most witches and wizards lived to be around one-hundred-seventy-years-old. L would be lucky to live past _seventy_, considering his diet and his lifestyle. It was simple fact, and while Harry and Hermione consistently tried to find ways to manoeuvre around this, L had come to terms with it. He was a normal human being, and while living forever with Harry by his side was an agreeable thought, he just didn't believe it was possible since the Philosopher's Stone had been destroyed.

He had come to terms with it, because getting his hopes up about something like that was more than likely going to set him up for disappointment. Harry was a relentless, stubborn man though, and Hermione wasn't much better when it came to Harry being happy. If it could be done, they would find a way, but he wasn't going to hope for it.

He answered, "I can arrange for all of my heirs over the years to supply a room at the House to be filled with fresh apples every year. Since they are aware of the shinigami presence in the world, they would be willing to oblige to make sure that Kira does not make another appearance. If you go back on this deal, and Kira comes back, you won't have another apple except the dry, sandy ones in your Realm. Do we have an agreement?"

Ryuk laughed, louder than Harry's racket from before. It echoed in his brain, it was so loud, and L was thankful for the magical soundproofing of the room even more than before.

"You have yourself a deal, boytoy." Harry made an angry exclamation at Ryuk's nickname for the detective, but L had come to terms with _that_ too after years of being called that. It could've been worse, he supposed, and L was thirty-six. He was past being irritated about it. "Get it done, and I'll make sure that you'll have his spare notebook in your hands as soon as he looks away."

L grabbed a cell phone from the end table and made the phone calls, and thirty minutes later Ryuk left, happy as a clam and hopefully in agreement with the deal. There was no telling with him, but since apples were like amphetamines to the irritating shinigami, perhaps he would heed the warning.

It took Harry nearly two hours to calm down enough to stop the transfigured suits of armour fighting.

They kept the purple ceiling and the walls of ivy though. L sort-of liked it.

* * *

><p>Two months later, Ryuk came in on them when Harry was just starting to push inside L deliciously.<p>

He laughed and threw the confiscated Death Note right at Harry's furious face.


End file.
